


Harry Potter: The Dalek who Lived

by MattHarrisFics



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dalek Harry, Harry Potter Is A Dalek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20447855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattHarrisFics/pseuds/MattHarrisFics
Summary: At the heart of the Dalek Empire there sits a planet that no Dalek would ever speak of. A planet filled with Daleks that were too bloodthirsty, too ruthless, too deranged for even their own civilization. On this planet sits a solitary Dalek, with a lightning bolt scar on its casing. It tells itself a story, one of magic and powerful evil wizards, running from the truth of what it has become. Until it wakes up, shocked back to life by a madman in a box, just passing through.This is the story of Harry Potter, given a new lease of life in a brand new world of aliens, magic, and a man named the Doctor.





	1. Burrowed

Harry woke with a start, his hair slick with sweat and his heart beating so hard he thought it might rocket out of his chest and bounce off into the corner of his bedroom. His hand darted out to his bedside table in search of his wand before he realised there was no threat, it had just been a dream. 

The Second Wizarding War had taken a lot out of Harry by the time it had reached its brutal conclusion two years ago. His dreams were marred by the image of a laughing, serpentine face. He may have removed the horcrux, but Voldemort was still branded across his thoughts. The nightmares had come thick and fast long before the war had ended, but over the past two years they had always been the same. Voldemort would call him to the forest, he would go, but they would not kill him straight away. He was locked in a cage and made to watch as his friends and loved ones were cut down by killing curses, imperio’d o fight against one another, and set to their knees writhing in pain under the weight of the Cruciatus. 

But that night the dream had been different. Hogwarts was not under siege by werewolves and death eaters. The attack had been quite different. Instead of the sickly green glare of Avada Kedavra shooting out across the school, otherworldly beams of white hot light had impacted the shield that the Hogwarts teachers had thrown up, slicing through it like a knife through butter. Anyone the beams touched would die instantly, their skeletons briefly illuminated within their own bodies. It was like a killing curse turned up to eleven, far beyond the limits of even Voldemort's power. 

The beams were being fired by creatures that seemed to be of muggle design, they were clearly mechanical. Encased in an armor that glinted golden bronze in the moonlight. A single eye stalk adorned their domed heads, alongside two rectangular lights that lit up every time they spoke. They only ever spoke one word, “exterminate.”

In the dream, Harry had not been one of those on the ground trying to fight back against the flying machines, he was in the sky. Flying freer than he ever had before, his vision a blue-tinged telescope that took note of everything below. He rained his biting hot hellfire down on those below with a reckless abandon, feeling only joy at the slaughter of a race that was impossibly inferior. 

Harry shook his head, yawned, and tried to push the images out of his head. The dream was just that, a dream. While it may have been horrific to wake up to, it couldn’t really mean anything. Voldemort was long since dead, afterall, and the Horcrux had been blasted out of him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stood, and crossed the landing of the Burrow. He had been in Auror training for the better part of a year, with another two to go. He found it funny that he had to train to be an Auror at all considering his past, though he had to admit the more advanced classes on Stealth and Tracking would have been a help during the war. 

Not for the first time Harry cast his mind back to the Battle of Hogwarts. Back to how lucky he had truly been. He wasn’t just the Boy-Who-Lived, he was the Boy-Who-Lived Twice now. In those early days some had even dubbed him the Master of Death, but that sort of talk had been quickly dismissed. The only reason he had won at all was because, in truth, Voldemort had just followed his own prophecy to its self-fulfilling end. He had only resisted the killing curse the first time due to the love of his parents, the second because that very act had caused a piece of Voldemort's soul to latch itself onto his. He had seen Dumbledore for the last time that night, and while it may have all been in his head, did that mean the meeting wasn’t real? The figment of Dumbledore in his mind suggested as much. 

Harry turned from the basin and crept quietly down the stairs, it was still early in the morning and most of the house would still be sleeping. His thoughts drifted to the dreams that had always ruled his life. The dream that Arthurt Weasley was being attacked by a snake was real, sifted straight from the madness of Voldemort's own head, and the knowledge it provided him allowed him to save the man. The dream that he had of Dumbledroe and the fragment of Voldemort’s own soul buried inside him had been real on a metaphysical level at the very least. Who was to say that the dream of the metal creatures with their white-hot blasts of light couldn’t be real on some level as well?

Of course this is happening in your head Harry, but does that make it any less real?

Dumbledore’s words echoed. He stumbled on the stairs, and only just managed to stop himself falling the final few steps by grasping desperately onto the banister. Harry gasped as his chest constricted around his heart in an icy grip of panic, a familiar but long forgotten pain on his forehead flaring up once more. He had always associated that pain with Voldemort, its source the Dark Lords cold rage as it filtered through their latent psychic connection, infesting his own mind with thoughts of hatred and fear. But Voldemort was dead, and this had to be something different. The prickling pain in his scar pulsed rhythmically, spreading out across his face. Thoughts of the pepper pot creatures from his dream danced through his mind, his stomach twisted and turned as if he were going to be sick all over the Weasley’s carpet. 

He turned and ran back up the stairs, haphazardly scrambling up them two at a time, and all but crashed into the sink basin. His eyes were wild as he searched his face for any sign of madness, a hint that Voldermort or something else was breaking back in. He looked normal, but he could feel it, twisting and turning underneath the skin of his forehead. His breathing short, Harry gently prodded his scar… and there it was. An almost imperceptible bulge, just underneath his flesh, and it was moving. As if it were trying to rip itself free of the young Wizard’s skull, out into the world once more. 

Harry Potter let out a low, guttural scream as a large stalk pushed itself out of his skin, breaking through his skull with a sickening crack, a bulbous blue screen at the end. The wizard collapsed to his knees and writhed on the floor as the world itself convulsed around him. 

xXx

When Harry opened his eyes once again it was with a shock that he realised the world was once again tinted blue, the same blue from his nightmare. 

“I do not understand,” Harry said, flinching backward as a strange and metallic voice screamed his words in rage. “What… Am… I?”

As he tried to move around further Harry realised that he was chained. He could not move his legs, his arms or his hands. He allowed his head to swivel to the side slightly, just in time to catch a glimpse of what looked like a man in a tweed jacket and a bow tie run past him. The sight of that man, with a carefree smile on his face as he danced through the room, filled him with an icy dread. A primal fear, a hatred so deep that he had never felt anything like it before. 

Without his control, as if by instinct alone, he cried out “EX-TER-MIN-ATE!”

The man glanced back at him, just for a moment, a look of surprise and… perhaps fear… etched across his features. Harry’s vision darted downward, unable to meet his sight dead on. His wand arm had been transformed into a stick that reminded him of an egg whisk, his other into something that was almost reminiscent of a muggle toilet plunger. But despite their absurd appearance he could feel a great and lethal power coursing through both. An explosion sounded close by, the force of it shaking the room he was in, causing pieces of the already dilapidated ceiling to collapse. Harry tried to do the one thing he could think of doing in this insane situation, he tried to apparate. 

xXx

The Doctor glanced back into the room one last time, eyeing the Dalek that had flinched away from him as he ran past. The others in that sector had barely been operative, husks that were discarded. But this Dalek, with a sparking lightning bolt crack in its casing, seemed suddenly fully active. An explosion shook the building, and he knew that the Daleks in orbit had begun their assault on the Asylum. He didn’t have the time to investigate the Dalek that was now avoiding his gaze. It was just another insane Dalek on a planet of insane Daleks. Besides, he had Ponds to rescue. The Doctor turned and ran, just in time to miss the Dalek he had been studying break into an Emergency Temporal Shift. He chains that had been holding it in place fell to the ground, as it vanished into the wilds of time and space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time I posted this work on a different fanfiction site. Now I'm back, reworking it from the ground up. Expect thirteen different "episodes" in this story. 
> 
> This first episode is introductory in nature, and is called "The Dalek who Lived". As a teaser for how the rest of the series will unfold I'll give you the names of the rest of the chapters now with absolutely no context, some you will recognise and others you will surely not. 
> 
> Episode 2: The Bells of St. John
> 
> Episode 3: Might of Metal 
> 
> Episode 4: Cold War
> 
> Episode 5: Here Be Angels
> 
> Episode 6: Hide
> 
> Episode 7: Dead Man Walking
> 
> Episode 8: Journey To The Centre of The TARDIS
> 
> Episode 9: Tailspin
> 
> Episode 10: The Crimson Horror
> 
> Episode 11: Dust
> 
> Episode 12: Nightmare in Silver
> 
> Episode 13: The Name of The Doctor


	2. Hungry Like The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dalek thrown through time. A wolf in its den. A man, two mysteries on his mind.

Harry fell. He fell through time. He fell through space. He twisted and turned, end over end, in a maelstrom of colour, lightning and cloud. He fell through the bounds of reality itself, ricochetting off the edges of creation. He fell, and he screamed. His screams were lost to the winds of the time vortex… and then… it stopped.

The little blue light at the end of Harry's eyestalk flickered briefly, warily, unwilling to be assaulted by the overload of data once more. But there was no data to be overloaded by. Harry's casing sat in a boundless white space, drifting through the void.

"Well... what have we here," a voice echoed around him, from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. "A lone little Dalek? How have you made it to my sanctum?"

Harry could not bring himself to respond. His mind was shattered, confused, he had no idea where he was, or even what he was. The vocal processors of his Dalekanium shell could only perceive his panic and fear in the way it was designed.

"EX-TER-MIN-ATE," The casing yelled, shooting off bolt after bolt of energy into the depths of nothing.

"Oh… so angry and alone, as your kind always is. I believe I shall do away with you now," the ethereal voice remarked. "But wait… there's something more, just below the surface… what are you?"

"What…Am…I?" The casing replied, a fragment of Harry briefly able to respond.

Without warning the casing stopped firing, its gun arm surrounded by a golden glow. Before Harry's unbelieving mechanical eye golden motes of light began to swirl and coalesce into the form of a young woman.

"What are you indeed," the woman murmured, allowing the tips of her fingers to trail across the damaged casing, a trail of sparks in their wake. "Dalek on the outside, human on the inside, total physical conversion but your mind resisted the change…"

"What…Are…You?" Harry replied, the woman's touch was electric, but it served to calm him somewhat. His casing burned where she touched, but in a pleasant way, as if her very touch had imbued him with the ability to think and heal.

"Me? I have gone by many names through the aeons. Some know me as The Moment. Others the Miracle. I have always preferred… Bad Wolf," Her eyes glinted with that, a flicker of power around her pupils, golden and pure. "In truth, I am an aspect of the Vortex, one of many, the strongest by far."

"I…Do not…Understand," Harry replied, he could barely make sense of what had happened to his own body, let alone the connotations behind this creatures words.

"No, No I don't suppose that you would," Bad Wolf remarked, almost to itself, "Your brain is all scrambled up, swirled around in that tin can like eggs. But don't worry little Dalek, I can fix that."

"Fix…?"

"Oh yes, I should think so, fix you up and send you on your way… In fact, I believe I know just the man to send you to."

The woman rushed toward Harry with unnatural speed and placed both of her hands upon his casing, channelling power directly through the contact. The Dalek began to scream again, but she paid it no mind, he wouldn't remember this part when it was all over. Slowly the casing began to burn away, disintegrating into the same motes of light that the Bad Wolf had appeared with, revealing the tentacled form of the organics within, the final vestiges of the Dalek's humanity mutated beyond recognition. She reached into its core as it writhed in the air and grasped its constituent genetic structure, changing it back into something the original human mind would comprehend as its own.

Then she sent it, still forming, spinning back through the Vortex.

xXx

She was impossible. She had been there on the Dalek Asylum, she had been there in Victorian London and she had died both times. The madman erupted in a spate of giddy laughter as he rushed around the console of the time machine, seemingly hitting buttons and pulling levers at random. Oh, of course, the pain of losing his best friends, the first face his face had seen, that was still weighing heavily on his mind. But he had just been presented with a mystery. Not just any old mystery, a completely impossible mystery, a mystery like none he had ever been presented with before. The impossible girl, dead twice in two completely different time zones on two completely different planets. He loved a challenge, and it didn't get much more challenging than that.

He swung a final lever down with a flourish, and then stopped dead when the cloister bells began to chime. He jumped back from the console as it began to spark and shudder, a stream of golden light pouring from each explosion, to become concentrated in a singular mass on the floor. It bubbled and warped, seeming to filter through a stream of different potential shapes, before eventually settling on the shape of a young boy dressed in pyjamas and glasses with a distinctive lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

"Well," The Doctor said, "That's new."

He whipped out his sonic screwdriver, but before he could begin a scan the TARDIS main console burst into yet another flurry of sparks and flames, the central column wheezing and grinding with more fervour than before, as if it were protesting against the new arrival. With a hard jolt and a final cough, the TARDIS came to a stop, acrid smoke spewing from the console.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUEUE OPENING THEME!
> 
> These first two chapters can be considered the opening sting to a Doctor Who episode, moving pieces into place. The rest of Episode One, The Dalek Who Lived, will deal with Harry reconciling himself in a new, angry, Alien universe. Dalek programming still writhing in his mind, will he and the Doctor survive a planet ruled by fear?


	3. Planet of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor drinks coffee, and Harry talks with an old enemy.

The cloister bells rang out across the expanse of the TARDIS. Thick rivulets of grey smoke poured from the central column of the console room, the glass at the core of the impossible machine laced with spiderweb cracks. The room, usually lit cool blue, was cast in a dark red by the emergency lights that lined the perimeter. The Doctor, barely noticing the damage to his TARDIS, focused entirely at the boy lying on the floor. The boy coughed harshly, and it was as if something had snapped the Doctor back into the present.

“Activate extractor fans!” He yelled and pulled his jacked up to cover his mouth and nose. The fans whirred into life, clearing most of the smoke from the room. He hadn’t had to use those since Melody had shot his TARDIS all those years ago, the thought of his previous companions still lanced through his chest, spearing both his hearts in a moment of pain. 

He darted over to the boy, who still lay unconscious on the floor, hooked his arms around the boys and dragged him to the door, stumbling out into whatever planet the TARDIS had dumped them on. Wherever they had landed would be better than the damaged time machine, she would need time to repair herself anyway. The Doctor spluttered, tripped backwards through the door, and landed sprawled on the ground with the boy on top of him. As soon as they were clear the TARDIS doors slammed shut, and the cloisters fell silent. The Doctor let his head fall back on the hard ground and let out a brief sigh, the TARDIS never liked having occupants when she was damaged. The cracks along the control rooms central collum were a minor issue, all things considered, no doubt she would be up and running in no time. 

The sky flashed with the constant exchange of plasma fire from the ships above. Long green strands of light, flickering from one ship to another. They would sometimes disperse along energy shields, harmlessly rendered into motes of light. Sometimes they would slice through those shields, lancing into the metal below, exposing crews to the fatal vacuum of space as their ships came apart at the seams. Maybe they would have been safer in the TARDIS after all. 

He lay the boys head on the ground as gently as he could. The war raging above him could wait, as could the rubble laden abandoned street he was standing in. With a flick of his wrist, the Doctor had his sonic in his hand and had begun to scan. 

“I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before,” The Doctor muttered to himself, “I just can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

The sonic bleeped and fed the relevant data straight into the Doctors mind. The boy, whoever he was, displayed two distinct energy signatures. One rippled across his skin, a simple kind of temporal background radiation, similar to that which the Time Vortex imparted onto those who travelled through it. But the levels of saturation were unlike anything the Doctor had ever seen before, and he had been travelling through the Vortex for millennia. The second was deeper within the boy, nestled just below his heart. It was a kind of energy the Doctor had never seen before, the Sonic was unable to quantify it, though it seemed to sit somewhere in the Psionic wavelengths.   
“Hey, hey you, out in the open!” Called out a voice from the ruins over to the Doctor’s right. “What are you doing just lying there? It’s a wonder a sen-beam hasn’t scorched you yet! Get your friend up and get over here!” 

The Doctor extricated himself from under the stranger who had appeared in his ship and spied the woman who was gesturing for him to come over. Without further delay, The Doctor once more hooked his arms beneath the strangers and haphazardly dragged him across the road to the cover of the ruined buildings. 

“Come on come on, get in,” the woman said impatiently, darting out to grab the boys legs to speed up the process. “What happened to your friend here?” 

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow, surprised that a woman in the middle of a warzone would so openly help two total strangers in the middle of open conflict. Then, they didn’t exactly look like soldiers. 

“Well, he’s not really my friend,” The Doctor said, “He just sort of… well… appeared.” 

“You mean he was brought to the surface by a transmat?” she asked and glanced down at his unconscious body. 

“A transmat? No silly transmat could beam someone onto my ship,” The Doctor said, puffing his chest out in pride before his face settled back down into a grimace of confusion. “No, definitely not a transmat, would have been ten to the power of, oh, at least fifteen times more powerful than your basic transmat beam to pierce the shielding on the TARDIS.” 

She quirked an eyebrow at that, “Did you say TARDIS?”

“Yeah,” The doctor replied, “That's the name of my ship, the blue box back in that street there.” 

“HIGHER TECHNOLOGY LOCATED. LOCK ACTIVATED. BEAM VECTORS CONNECTED. ESTABLISHING TRANSPORT,” a robotic voice grated out, seemingly from nowhere and yet everywhere at once. 

A bright beam of light erupted from above and tore into the ground. The air shimmered under the intensity of the light, cracks laced outward from the impact site, and a great metallic screeching filled the air. It was over as quickly as it began, and the TARDIS was gone. 

“Well, that was a bit more powerful than your basic transmat beam,” The Doctor said, almost dropping the boy in his arms. “Who took my ship?” 

“Your ship was just taken by the Sumaran Empire, they’ve been waging war on our world for the past month,” the woman explained. “Listen, your ship, a TARDIS you say, is gone. If that ship really was a TARDIS, and you’re really a… a Time Lord,” She said, her breath hitching over the words, “Then we could really use your help, Doctor.” 

~~~~ THIS IS A LINE BREAK ~~~~

Harry was dreaming again. That much he was sure of. It was odd, being so aware that you were in a dream, but that was the only possible explanation. Like so many times before he was scrambling over the bracken and felled logs of the Forbidden Forest, walking familiar steps to the site of his first death. It had always stuck with him, though he tried to never let it show. He remembered the biting heat of the Avada Kedavra as is slipped through his flesh and burnt through his soul. How he melted away and found himself standing on the platform of the train station where his life had first changed all those years ago. Explosions lit up the sky, pepper pot creatures that he now knew were called Daleks streamed overhead, their little gun armatures firing off deadly beams of white light. The dream had changed, then. Harry walked on anyway. 

The forest opened up into a clearing, as it always did. But something was different. Hagrid, in his big and heavy chains, was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Voldemort's core of Death Eater guards. It was just the serpentine man himself, sitting on a log, Nagini curling around his feet. 

“You have a very interesting mind, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, his head not lifting up from his cursed companion. “Daleks fly overhead, magnificent creatures roam these woods, and yet…” his tongue flicked out of his mouth, slim and forked like that of a snake, “The air tastes of Earth. These images were not in the minds of other Earthlings I have inhabited.” 

“You… You’re not Voldemort,” Harry managed to stutter, barely able to bite out the name of his mortal enemy. 

“Voldemort…” The pale phantasm of a man in front of him chewed over the name, as if it had never passed those lips before. “Something about this form likes that name very much, it sings to its core, but no. I am not Voldemort, I am… the Mara.” 

Harry felt the world ripple with the weight of that announcement. He had known for years that there was a kind of power that came with names, Voldemort had used the speaking of his as a tracker for his enemies. But this was something else. The name of the creature itself seemed to resonate in the very fabric of creation around him, a fact the Mara had clearly noticed as well. 

“Oh… that’s different. But then, Harry Potter, much is different about you isn’t it. A boy, captured by the Daleks from Earth in the heart of the Medusa Cascade just a second out of synch with the rest of the universe,” Voldemort, no, The Mara shook its head. “Taken out of time by the Dalek Time Controller itself, and converted completely into a Dalek. Perhaps it saw your destiny, etched into the threads of the untempered schism, your meeting with the big Bad Wolf. A destiny that could not be avoided, a fixed point.” 

“I.. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry said, stumbling back from the creature who wore his oldest enemies face.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” The Mara leered. “Still so early in your time stream, so long before you become revered across the galaxy almost as much as The Doctor himself. You… and your magic.” 

“This is just a dream… This is just a dream, none of it’s real,” Harry muttered to himself. “I’ll wake up in the Burrow any moment now.” 

“Oh, the great and mighty Harry Potter, reduced to a snivelling child in just a few minutes,” The Mara taunted. “Where’s that brave boy who stood down legions of Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord Voldemort himself?” The Mara surged to its feet, wand in hand. “Where’s that brave boy who took a hit from a killing curse, not just once but twice. What is it they call you in the world you think you come from? The boy who conquered?” 

The Mara was in front of Harry in an instant, Voldemort’s cold and clammy hand wrapped around his face. 

“Remember what your dear old Professor Dumbledore said, just because it’s in your head, that doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” The Mara hissed in his ear. 

Harry dipped a hand into his pocket, where his wand had always been kept, and found his fingers curling around the familiar piece of wood. He pulled the wand out and jabbed it into Voldemort’s ribs in one fluid motion. He couldn’t call out a spell, and so channeled as much energy as he could into getting off one overcharged silent Stupefy. The familiar recoil from his wand told him the spell had worked, but the Mara stood strong in Voldemort’s body, as if it hadn’t been hit by anything. 

“Oh there he is, the spitfire Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World. Well, in the real world Harry Potter is just a story Earthling’s read when they’re children, just like you. I can see it buried down in your repressed memories. The story you told yourself to run away from what the Daleks did to you.” 

The Mara threw Harry roughly to the ground, where he lay sprawled out and panting among the dirt and leaves. 

“Usually I would overpower a hosts mind slowly, take it over bit by bit, lull them into accepting my rule by twisting their mind against them… but you Potter… the Bad Wolf gave you such powers. How was she to know that I would use them against you so quickly?” The Mara gave him a look of pure hatred, one so foul it looked ten times more deadly than anything Voldemort had thrown his way. “Imperio!”

~~~~ THIS IS A LINE BREAK ~~~~

The Doctor sat by the young man's bedside, a cup of coffee in his hand. He took a sip of the black liquid, swilled it around his mouth for a moment, and then spat it back out again with a sound of disgust. He placed the cup on the bedside desk and shook his head, he couldn’t understand why Humans would drink such a drink even this far out into the colonies. There were some habits his favourite species would never grow out of. 

The Doctor sighed, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm, and looked over the boy once more. There was no denying who he was, how could there be? Those perfectly circular glasses, the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the psionic energy that hummed in his core. This young man, somehow, was a man taken straight from the realms of fiction. Harry Potter, complete with even his powers. It was a total impossibility. 

The door to the room opened and the woman, Esra he had later learned, slipped through. She had carried Harry with him through the rubble and danger of the war zone to an underground bunker. A lift and a series of winding corridors later he and the woman had carried Harry to the medical wing. She had told him that they knew of the Time Lords, and of him specifically, as tall tales whispered down through the generations. Of a war to end all wars, raging across every moment. But they were nothing more than bedtime stories. Clearly there were some pockets of the universe that he hadn’t managed to erase his presence from, he was still too big. Either way, on this world he was known as a great warrior. Still someone who could turn an enemy on its tail with just a glare. The Doctor had just sighed and straightened out his bow tie, of course he would help them, it’s what he did. 

“Any updates on the boy?” Esra asked, sitting down on the chair opposite from the Doctor. 

“I’ve been scanning him regularly, there’s been some fluctuations in his psionic core, but other than that I can’t see any reason for him to still be asleep,” The Doctor scratched at the back of his head, deep in thought. “It’s like something’s physically pushing his mental state down under the surface, forcing him to stay unconscious.” 

Considering the way he had manifested in the TARDIS, likely something similar to an apparation if the books were anything to go by, he was lucky to not have been ripped apart at the seams. There was no way he could have known where he was going, so splinching or appearing within the console itself would have been a genuine possibility. That didn’t explain why he was still unconscious though. 

“No matter, he’ll be safe down here in the bunkers. Will you be joining us for a briefing on the current situation?” Esra said, “We’re in… dire straits Doctor. The Sumaran’s push harder on our Orbital Defence Line with every passing day. As you saw when they took your TARDIS, they have ways of breaking through the blockades for brief intervals.”

“Yes right,” The Doctor said after taking a deep breath, unwilling to leave the mystery on the bed unsolved. “Briefing, I need to get my TARDIS back, and you need to stop an evil empire from knocking at your door. Piece of cake!” 

The Doctor jumped up with a grin, some of his manic energy leaking through the worry he had allowed to take hold of him. He strode out of the room and turned a sharp right. 

“Other way Doctor,” Esra called out, only just getting out of her chair herself. She followed the Doctor as he passed the door frame again, grumbling under his breath. 

Neither of them were there to see Harry shift slightly under the covers. Neither of them thought to check his arm, where the Dark Mark had begun to ink itself onto his skin. Neither of them saw the slight sheen of red on his teeth, or the glimmer of red light under his still shut pupils. The Mara was rising, and it would leave nothing in its path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this chapter was later than I had planned! Yes writers block was annoying! Yes my boyfriend is incredible for forcing me to actually sit down and write words! You can blame him for this being done :D


	4. Rise of The Mara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Mara makes itself known, and a soul is lost.

The Mara raised itself up in one smooth motion, unnatural in speed and precision. One moment Harry Potters body was unconscious and unmoving, and the next it was sitting straight up, its eyes open and simmering with a dark red glow. The Mara had taken full control of Harry’s body and by extension his magic. 

“Oh, my boy, you’re finally awake,” came the tired voice of an old man sitting in the corner. “How are you feeling?” He asked, rising feebly to his feet. 

The Mara cocked its head to one side and considered the old fool as he shuffled toward its new form. An old and weak human, usually he would have no use for such a creature. But the Doctor was here, and it had met that madman many years before. He was dangerous, wily, cunning, and the Mara would need every resource he could get his hands on to bring such a deadly opponent down. 

The Mara reached into the boys pocket, the very same that Harry had reached into in the dreamscape, and was comforted to find the rugged wooden shape of a wand, completely undamaged after Harry had been dragged through the warzone above. 

“Stupefy,” The Mara said lazily, drawing on Harry’s own knowledge of spellwork.

Though it knew what to expect the Mara was still surprised to see a red jet of highly powered energy leap from the tip of the piece of wood and impact the elderly man. The man went rigid and fell back to the ground with a loud thud. The wand, Harry’s magic, was incredibly potent. Using its power rushed through the Mara like a drug, it was a power the likes this universe had never seen before. The Bad Wolf had really outdone herself this time. 

But even with the power coursing through Harry’s magical core, the Mara could not afford to be complacent. The Mara had encountered the Doctor before, and there was no telling what tricks he would have up his sleeve. The Mara caught a glimpse of Harry in the mirror and was struck with sudden blinding fear, it lashed out with Harry’s magic and shattered the mirror in an instant. Not this time, the Mara wouldn’t be banished to the dark places of the inside once again. 

With a smirk on Harry’s face, the Mara crept from the medical bay. “Homenum Revellio,” the Mara muttered and was disappointed to find that it revealed nothing around it. That was to be expected, none of the people on this planet was strictly baseline human. They were clearly too far away from anything the spell would recognise, that would require some slight editing in the spellwork. 

“Sentiens Revelio,” The Mara tried again, twisting the spell slightly to seek out all sentient life, instead of just human life. The Mara felt a dramatic tug on Harry’s magic, not enough to deplete the wizard’s reserves any large amount, but enough to be felt. It could feel the presence of other sentient lifeforms near-instantly, presences pushing down on it from all sides. The Mara had thought its armies would have been able to pacify this planet with relative ease, it was after all just a simple human colony, but they were still having trouble in high orbit. The local systems had lent their aid too quickly, realising the Mara’s empire had begun to suck up too much territory too quickly. An alliance had formed against The Mara, trying desperately to hold it back. 

With so many people concentrated in such a small area, this must have been some sort of high-grade military base, that or a civilian bunker to escape from orbital bombardment. Either way, losing it would deal a heavy blow to the colonists standing in the Mara’s way. The Mara smirked and began to navigate its way through the labyrinth, it would take this base right from under the Doctor’s nose… and with Harry under its control, the Time Lord would be helpless to do anything about it. 

~ This is a Line Break ~

Esra was finding it hard to keep up with the Doctor’s incessant babbling as they made their way up to the briefing room. The Time Lord had a habit of saying an awful lot, most of it nonsense, with only brief hints of useful information buried within them. Deciphering the useful from the verbal diarrhoea was near impossible. 

Despite that, Esra had managed to learn that the Doctor had in fact crashed, he had never intended to come to her planets aid. Something had happened on his ship, something to do with the boy that they had left in the medical bunkers, that he couldn’t explain and it had led to them crashing. It made her concerned that they had left the boy in the care of Dr Sint. If he could take down a TARDIS just by appearing in it then he was surely a powerful being, not one to be trifled with. But the Doctor seemed to be sure that the boy wouldn’t harm anyone, if he even became conscious to begin with. 

The walked into the main control room while the Doctor was still mid-rant, having somehow pivoted from his musings on the battle above to the merits of combining sweet and savoury foods, citing fish fingers and custard as a prime example. 

“Ah, so this is your central command hub then,” The Doctor said, twirling on the spot to take the whole room in. 

Computer banks lined the walls, a holographic command unit took up the centre of the room. It displayed the status of the ongoing battle around the planet in exquisite detail, providing real-time displays of ongoing orbital skirmishes. The planet was surrounded by a coalition of forces, not just from the Human Empire either. This planet had become simple in its function, a roadblock to stop the Sumaran fleet in its tracks. One small world, orbiting a standard M class star, standing up and saying no. The Doctor couldn’t help but feel his hearts beat a little faster, species banding together to stop the injustices of the universe, it was very much his sort of adventure. 

“Esra, may I ask who you have brought into central command?” Asked a man standing at the holo-unit. His eyes were sunken into his face, rimmed with deep bags. He clearly hadn’t slept for a while, focusing entirely on the war effort. Something it seemed he was doing even while taking a moment to ask Esra his question if the small movements of his fingers and the three wires jutting out of his head and into the command console were anything to go by.   
“Oh, now that is Cool with a capital C!” The Doctor exclaimed, cutting off Esra before she could reply and pulling out his sonic screwdriver. He gave the man a brief scan and let out an impressed whistle. “Linking your neural pathways directly into the battle computer so you can have complete command over the fleet, using your brain as part of the computer,” he babbled, “Dangerous that is, human neurology isn’t meant to handle that much data for too long, and you’ve been going at it for far too long… I’m the Doctor, by the way!” 

The man's eyes widened, his gaze darted between the Doctor and Esra. “Does he speak the truth, Esra, is he really… The Doctor?” 

“Yes sir,” Esra replied, “I found his ship out sen-zone, just before it was beamed up. It was a wonder the idiot hadn’t been scorched!” 

“But this… this changes everything,” the man breathed, barely able to stifle a cough “We might actually have a chance!” 

“Doctor, this is Grand Strategist Alcom, he’s… well, he’s the last surviving strategist we have. He’s leading all our remaining orbital defence forces and liaising with the ships that have entered the fight to help defend against the Sumaran Empire,” Esra explained. 

“But he’s been going for too long,” The Doctor said, scanning him again, slower this time. “His mind has been heavily altered from the base human standard of this era, he’s able to parse much more incoming data, but even for a mind engineered like that… directing an entire battle group for an extended period of time? It’s taking its toll, isn’t it Alcom?” 

The old man shook his head, “This planet is my home Doctor, and look at what the Sumaran Empire has done to it. Laid waste to everything, killed almost all of its people,” A tear trickled down his cheek. “When I think about what has happened here, what could yet happen on other worlds if ours was to fall and the Sumaran’s were allowed to continue to ravage this galaxy unimpeded… it doesn't bear thinking about Doctor.” 

The Doctor nodded in understanding. He had fought in a war on a scale bigger than even this, and when he was the last one who was willing to stand up and do what was right, he had no choice but to answer that call. Even if it was a choice that burned in him every waking moment. The Doctor gave the man a smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Okay then,” he said, tossing his screwdriver from hand to hand. “First thing’s first, I’m gonna need my TARDIS back. The Sumaran’s shouldn’t be able to get inside her, but a TARDIS in the wrong hands is dangerous even with the doors closed. That means we need to get up into orbit.” 

“All surface to space shuttles are destroyed instantly, we have a transmat grid, but getting our signals through the disruptor field and onto a friendly ship is a bit of a gamble,” Esra said, “we may end up getting intercepted and shunted over to an enemy craft, or worse, deep space.” 

“I should be able to keep that from happening,” Alcom interrupted, “If I direct our forces to concentrate fire on their disruptor ships it’ll give you a much greater chance of landing on the designated target.” 

“But if you do that, you’ll be leaving this base, yourself, open to an orbital strike,” Esra said, “It’s a chance they won’t miss, you know that Alcom.” 

“Esra please,” Alcom said, giving the woman a sad smile. “I’m an old man and the Doctor is here. You won't need my oversight any longer.” 

“Ah yes, The Doctor is here, the saviour to all your problems,” a voice spat from the entranceway, dripping with acid. 

The Doctor recognised the voice immediately, how could he not, the movies had been favourites of so many of his companions and this Harry Potter was clearly based around Daniel Radcliffe. There were differences, of course. This Harry stood a little taller than the actor, his face was older and more rugged. If you saw him on the street you might not quite realise who you were looking at, but the voice was unmistakable. 

“Harry,” The Doctor gasped, and took an involuntary step back. 

“Not quite,” Harry hummed, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you try hard enough, but by then it’ll already be too late…” 

“Doctor? What’s going on?” Esra asked, moving to stand in front of Alcom. “I thought you said this guy was harmless? A hero on his world?” 

“Ahh, yes, well,” The Doctor laughed, his eyes focused on the wand held deftly in the boys hand. If that energy was anything to go by, Harry could probably use that wand just as one would expect such a wand to be used. “I’m missing something, probably something big and obvious and right in front of my face really. You know, thinking about it, the Sumaran Empire does ring a bell, not sure why. The red eyes look familiar too, that’s not normal even for someone bathed in Artron radiation like Harry is.” 

“Stalling for time isn’t going to work Doctor, you’ve defeated me once, I won’t let it happen again,” The thing inside Harry’s body sneered, before almost lazily yelling out “Bombarda!” 

The creature had clearly expected the spell to explode right in the midst of the Doctor’s group, but he was dismayed to see it harmlessly bounce off of a forcefield. The exploding charm did nothing but cause a few energy ripples across the surface of the field. The low level magic the creature had been keeping itself to so far clearly wasn’t going to cut it. 

“I’ve started the transmat lock sequence,” the old man exclaimed, “I’ll hold it off with the forcefield and get you out of here.” 

“But Alcom… whoever that is, clearly they aren’t going to hesitate at killing you,” Esra cried, making a move to stop the man. 

“Esra, please. I’m old, I’m dying. I’ve got maybe days left in me, if that. Let me do this, child, let me save you,” Alcom replied, lifting a hand to stroke her face. 

“Doctor, stop him,” Esra said, but the Doctor wasn’t responding. He was standing, wide eyed with fear at the man in front of him. The creature wearing its skin. He knew what it was, he had seen it before. Only then it hadn’t been as powerful, it had been in a normal human companion. Teegan didn’t have such strength to be abused by The Mara. 

“Ah Doctor, I see that recognition in your face, you’ve worked out exactly what I am, haven’t you,” The Mara taunted from behind the forcefield. “Bombarda Maxima!” 

The Explosion was much more powerful this time, cracks rippled out from the impact site and for just a moment the light blue of the forcefield flickered. It wouldn’t be able to take much more punishment. 

“I wonder, Doctor. There’s one spell in this strange human’s mindscape, one that must never be used above all others,” The Mara began to lecture. “I wonder, could a Time Lord regenerate from… AVADA KEDAVRA!” 

A beam of sickly green light lept from the tip of Harry’s wand, broiling hot with the rage of the Mara behind it. The spell punched clean through the flickering blue forcefield, shattering it entirely. But The Doctor was already disappearing. The spell passed clean through his flickering form as the Transmat lock took hold. The last thing he and Esra saw was the green light striking Alcom in the chest, the old man crumpling to the ground. 

The Mara let out a harsh bark of laughter, twisted on the spot, and disappeared in a clap of displaced air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, my boyfriend is a great motivator for writing. He just snaps his fingers, tells me he wants to read what I've written, and then oh look almost 2500 words have materialised in a google drive. 
> 
> As you can tell by this chapter, I'm not pulling any punches in this story. People will die. Characters will kill. No one is safe. Next chapter whenever my boyfriend decides to poke me into writing another chapter!


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